


you and i, we collide

by NorthOfSomewhere



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, Flash Fic, Fluff, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthOfSomewhere/pseuds/NorthOfSomewhere
Summary: Alfred meets a stranger in a bar.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	you and i, we collide

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my google docs and had no idea where I was going with this. So, I'll just post this snippet, I guess.

“Russia,” the man says. The word rolls over to Alfred, smooth like a newly formed marble. He's quiet. In the dimly lit yellowness of the bar, too dark for public etiquette, people's voices are loud and energetic. It's almost too loud to think let alone have a quiet conversation. The man's voice cuts through somehow.

It takes Alfred a long couple seconds to remember that he had asked him a question. The words had all but fallen out of his mouth the second they’d entered his mind. It’s a habit that has landed him in trouble more than a few times. Thankfully it’s a rather innocent question. One he felt he really really needed to know the answer to - “Where’s that accent from?”

The man is sitting on the stool next to Alfred’s own. Their legs are touching, warm in the surprisingly cold bar. The stools are close together. _Are they too_ _close?,_ he thinks, briefly biting his lip. It’s something he worries about, his proximity to others. He’s been told that he has a tendency to invade others’ personal space. He considers leaving. He hadn’t planned on talking to anyone after all. It was just supposed to be a quick stop before heading back home. He decides it would be rude to up and leave. He started a conversation, might as well finish it.

“I am from Russia,” he amends after Alfred fails to respond. He doesn’t seem to mind Alfred spacing out though. He looks at him curiously as he holds his drink. Waiting.

“Russia?” Alfred muses on this while tilting his head to look up at his conversation companion. He’s tall, Alfred notices. It's too dark to tell what color his eyes are. But his hair, in the bad lighting, appears to be some shade of blonde. He reaches for his own drink. He revels in the fluidity that the alcohol seems to have afforded his limbs. “Wow, that’s far.”

The man laughs loudly at this statement, startled from him by the looks of it. His cheeks flush what Alfred imagines to be a pretty pink, as if he were embarrassed at the volume of his own voice. _Shy_ , that's adorable.

“Yes,” he- Russia starts, quieter this time, amused. “Yes it is.”

Alfred smiles broadly, always happy to make someone laugh. Suddenly he feels more energized than he has in a little while. “So, you got a name? Or should I just call you Russia?”

Another laugh from the man. Alfred’s on a roll.

The man shrugs. “As long as I can call you America.”

“Alright. It’s a deal then,” Alfred holds his hand out. Russia grabs it in his own. A handshake to seal the deal.


End file.
